Imprisoned Read online

  There were cobwebs in her short, almost-curly black hair and her face was dirty too. Cutting through the dust and grime on her pale cheeks were obvious tear-tracks. It looked like she’d gone down into the subbasement and laid on the dirty ground crying for hours. The thought brought back the memory of holding her in the Rec Yard, the feeling of her shoulders shaking as he tried to comfort her and hide her pain from the rest of the inmates. The softness of her small body in his arms…how right it had felt to finally hold her…

  Angrily, Lathe shoved the memory away. He refused to think of that now—refused to let himself be weak around her. Refused to let himself have feelings for the female who had lied to him and strung him along.

  “Look at you,” he said roughly. “Don’t you know the Yonnites expect their slaves to at least look presentable?”

  “What?” She looked at him, wide-eyed and Lathe blew out a breath of frustration.

  “Come here.” Taking one of the soft cloths the Mistresses used to clean their hands between courses, he wet it at the sink and pulled Ari to him. With swift, efficient strokes he cleaned her cheeks, wiping away the evidence of her tears as well as he could.

  He half expected her to protest his brusque treatment but Ari stood quietly, allowing him to do as he wished with her. Her red-rimmed eyes cast down, she waited until Lathe finished the small cat-bath.

  Somehow her submissive posture made him even angrier. He wanted her to fight him or protest or insult him as she had when she’d first come to the prison. Instead she just stood there, as pale and quiet as a statue. It was as though she thought she deserved whatever he wanted to do to her and she was willing to endure it, no matter what.

  She does deserve it, whispered a voice in his head. After what she did…what she made me do…

  He pushed the angry thoughts aside and stepped back, examining his handiwork.

  “There. At least now the Yonnites won’t throw you into the hole for the offense of being offensive now,” he growled.

  “Are they that particular?” Ari asked, looking up at him.

  Lathe raised an eyebrow at her.

  Have you ever served a Mistress before?”

  “Um, no.” She shook her head. “Although I have been served for most of my life so I think I know what’s expected.”

  “Been served, huh?” Lathe frowned at her. “Are you one of the Yonnites yourself then?” It wouldn’t have surprised him a bit—just another one of her lies. But Ari was quick to contradict that idea.

  “What? No! I hate those evil shivaths!” She made a face. “But my family are kind of a minor nobility on Phobos. It’s not a big deal or anything—I grew up with servants but really they’re more like part of the family.”

  “I see—minor nobility,” Lathe said, not sure he believed her at all. “So who do I have the honor of addressing?”

  “Lady Arianna Blackthorn, at your service, sir.” Ari spread invisible skirts and dropped him a very passable curtsy that made Lathe raise his eyebrows again. Could she really be telling the truth this time? If so, what was a noblewoman from Phobos doing in BleakHall? How had she gotten here and why?

  His questions would have to wait because just then a loud blast of shrill, self-important music sounded over the com-link system and a deep male voice called out,

  “Behold, Mistress Hellenix of Opulex, Capital of Yonnie Six has arrived!”

  “They’re here,” Lathe murmured to Ari. “Just follow my lead and act like the other body slaves.”

  Taking a tray of expensive sugar-jeweled kanjee fruit, he strode from the food prep area into the lushly-decorated dining hall, which held a long, low table surrounded by six elaborately carved lappal-wood chairs upholstered in tongle fur. Ari followed him with a dish of spiced hinja-frog intestines and the two of them set their trays on the dining table.

  Stalking into the room was a diminutive mistress with long, straight black hair and large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a leather harness which left her large, full breasts bare and almost covered her pussy mound. A pair of stylish leather thigh-high boots completed her look which Lathe thought was kinky in a minimalist way. As a finishing touch, her nipples were dusted in some kind of colored sugar—reddish gold on one breast and silvery blue on the other.

  Standing by the doorway which led to the Mistress’s private landing area was a huge Kindred warrior with wheat-blond hair and a neatly clipped beard of the same color. He also had pure silver eyes. It was he who had been announcing his Mistress’s entrance and now he stood silent, as though awaiting her orders.

  The slave’s outfit was scarcely more decent than hers—consisting of a thick pain collar around his neck and a pair of crotchless black leather trousers which showed a silver-wire chastity device that caged his large shaft.

  Lathe felt a shock of recognition when he saw the huge male. This must be Malik—the Volt Kindred who was enslaved to Mistress Hellenix, whom Commander Sylvan had told him about! He wished he could get the male alone for a moment to ask him some questions but clearly that was not to be—not with the Mistresses arriving and expecting to be served.

  “That was a rather good announcement, Malik,” Mistress Hellenix remarked, throwing herself into a plush, fur-lined chair and draping one leg over the padded arm, apparently careless of the fact that this put her scantily-clad crotch on display.

  “My Mistress honors me,” the Volt Kindred murmured, his face stony, his eyes facing forward.

  “Just stand there and announce the others as they come in,” Mistress Hellenix commanded. “Mistress Poofinpah isn’t bringing her slave, who usually does the announcements so you’ll have to manage instead.”

  “I will do as my Mistress wills. In this, as in all things, it is my pleasure to serve her.” The big Volt Kindred spoke blandly but Lathe thought he saw a spark of fiery hatred far back in those pure silver eyes.

  Mistress Hellenix, however, appeared to notice nothing.

  “Pretty words, Malik,” she remarked, reaching for one of the chewy spiced frog intestines and popping it into her mouth. “Mmm—lovely! I’ll feed myself until you’re done announcing since these two prison idiots are too thick to help out.”

  She glared at Lathe and Ari as she spoke and Lathe was quick to respond.

  “Mistress, can I help you in any way?” he asked. “Would you like me to feed you?”

  “No, no…” She waved him off airily. “I prefer to wait for my own slave. But see to it that you’re quicker in serving the others when they come. In the meantime, I know there must be more food than this. I ordered at least a thousand credits worth from the caterers. So bring it out at once!”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Lathe bowed and Ari echoed his words and bowed as well.

  “Bossy shivath,” she muttered when the two of them were in the kitchen again. “Those freaking Mistresses think they own everyone and everything, don’t they?”

  Lathe was surprised to see her dark blue eyes were snapping with anger.

  “That’s not the half of it,” he said grimly. “Just be sure you keep them happy and hope they didn’t bring any extra pain collars with them. Come on—let’s get these dishes out.”

  “Mistress Chokeapig of Taber Island, Yonnie Six,” Malik, the Volt Kindred was announcing when they came back with more platters.

  Mistress Burnabush and Mistress Jankypoo as well as two others soon followed and in short order all the Mistresses were assembled in the fur-lined chairs around the low oval table.

  “Very good, Malik,” Mistress Hellenix clapped her hands approvingly when the Volt Kindred had made the last announcement. “Now that everyone’s here, we can begin.”

  Malik came around to his Mistress’s side and began to feed her delicacies from the various trays. The other body slaves were doing the same and Lathe was quick to find one of the Mistresses who was lacking a body slave and point the other without a slave out to Ari. The two of them stood by and put dainties into the Mistresses’ mouths so that they didn’t have